Piloting, Seamanship, and Tall Ship Handling: Course Description

During January term, eleven students and Professor Christopher Pyle will join the crew of HMS Bounty for two weeks of deep-water sailing in the Gulf of Mexico. The ship will sail south from St. Petersburg, Florida, to the Dry Tortugas, east to Key West, and north to St. Petersburg between January 5 and January 19, 2005. There will also be opportunities to visit an old Civil War fort and explore an underwater wreck in the Dry Tortugas.

Students will be integral members of the ship's crew in every respect: standing watch, working in the rigging, and manning the helm. They will learn the art and science of navigating, handling, and maintaining a 180 foot-long, three-masted, full-rigged ship, living and working much as sailors did in the 18th century. As time, weather, and opportunities present themselves, students will learn maritime history, celestial (and GPS) navigation, and ordinary seamanship. This replica of a late 18th century merchant ship was built in 1960, in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, for the film Mutiny on the Bounty .

Blog notes

This blog is being managed on land by Bill Denneen in the communications office. Our sailors, using a satellite phone and laptop computer (they're waterproof, right?), will post to the blog via email, and Bill will publish it in the blog. Each post will say "posted by MHC", and the writer's name will be shown in the body of the message.

Ship notes

The HMS Bounty was built in 1960 in Nova Scotia for the film Mutiny on the Bounty. Today she is the only wooden square-rigger in North America still sailing as a training vessel.

This photo is from the ship's web site.

The satellite phone is working!

A piece of cake! Of course I'm not standing on the deck of a moving ship trying to point the satellite antenna through the rigging to some unseen point in the sky.

Bill

Carly checks in

Hi, I'm Carly, I'm 19, a sophomore at Mount Holyoke and a Politics major, Music minor. I'm from West Hartford, Connecticut and I have no previous sailing experience.
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posted by Carly

Allison's intro

Allison, of Mount Holyoke's class of 2008, comes from Stevens Point, Wisconsin. She has no previous sailing experience.
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posted by Bill

Nino's first post

My name is Nino. I attend Mount Holyoke College. My hometown is Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I have gone sailing only a few times with my uncle, but never on a tall ship. I love the water and cannot wait to go on the Bounty.
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posted by Nino

Mike's info

Hey, I'm Mike, Amherst class of '08. I'm 18 and come from Elmira, New York, the middle of the Finger Lakes region. I'm on the joint Amherst/Mount Holyoke sailing team (with a Hampshire student, a UMass student, and a Smithie thrown in for good measure). Before that, I learned to sail by zipping around Cayuta Lake on a Hobecat. Even the end-to-end trips were pretty quick as the lake only measures one mile by two miles. I heard about this course through the sailing team, went over to Mount Holyoke to check it out, and here I am, the token male.
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posted by Mike

Chris's bio

Chris Pyle grew up in Plymouth, Mass., where he spent summers racing old wooden sailboats. While in college he captained the sailing team and served as foretopman on Mayflower II, a replica of the Pilgrims’ ship. He also taught sailing and rebuilt boats. In January 1983, Pyle and three Mount Holyoke students built an 18-foot pulling boat from scratch, which they sold to make money for scholarships. Over the years he has skippered a variety of craft, from a 17th century shallop to a 20th century schooner. When his first child was born, Pyle built him a cradle in the form of a Grand Banks fishing dory. It still hangs on davits in his home, awaiting grandchildren.

Read more about Professor Pyle in his faculty profile.
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posted by Bill

Anna's introduction

My name is Anna. I am a sophmore at Mount Holyoke and I am from Charleston, SC. I have lived by the water all my life, but have never had experience sailing on a tall ship. I will be shooting digital footage while we are on board for a short documentary film of our journey. I am excited to set sail!
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posted by Anna

Natalia's first post

Hi all,
My name is Natalia and this is my last year at Mount Holyoke. I was born in Bulgaria but spent half my life in Budapest, Hungary. I love the water, I've been swimming all my life, and I also like studying about ocean currents. I had my first sailing experience last winter when I sailed from Tahiti to the Marquesas Islands, and to Hawaii aboard the Robert C. Seamans, a beautiful brigantine operated by the Sea Education Association (SEA), Woods Hole. I fell in love with tall ship sailing then and can hardly wait to sail on the Bounty. Even though I am a shellback, I am sure that Neptune won't have mercy on me and I will get seasick again ... will be fun!
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posted by Natalia

Intro from Maria

Hi,
My name is Maria. I am a first year at Mount Holyoke College and am from Hadley, MA. I have no prior sailing experience. However, I have wanted to sail on a square-rigger ever since I read The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle when I was ten. I hope that this turns out to be a truly memorable adventure.
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posted by Maria

Tuesday

Dawn rose red this morning across the bay. Light breeze from the northeast. Young cormorants chirped on the jib boom, while pelicans preened on the pilings.

The Bounty is out at the end of "the pier," next to an inverted pyramid. She's a bit naked at the moment. On the way down the coast in December she broke her main tops'l yardarm and it now lies in pieces on the port channels, outside the topsides, inside the shrouds. The crew shifted the foretops'l yard to the mainmast, and when we set sail we will have the privilege of sending up a replacement yard. We will also send up a new mizzen topmast, which is like mounting a large flagpole on top of an even larger flagpole while rolling around in a seaway.

We set sail tomorrow (Wednesday) around 8:30 in the morning. If the wind is from the east, we can sail virtually off the dock, down Tampa Bay, and under the Skyline Bridge.

Carly, Nicole, Michael, and Nino are on board; Cindy and Maria have landed and will be in shortly. Cell phones keep us all in touch. The rest of the crew will be here by 9:00 p.m.

The students have all been assigned to watches and bunks. They will have to learn how to sleep in four hour bursts, or rise to eat, and then go back to bed. The accommodations are simple, but adequate. The Bounty's crew most hospitable.

Carly has set me up with this computer. Now we will see how it transmits over the satellite phone. It's a brave new world when the students teach the professors the new technology.
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posted by Chris Pyle

Cindy's hello

Hello to all, my name is Cindy and I am a junior at MHC. I am an anthropology major focusing on medical anthro. My minor is Spanish, politics, and the five college culture, health, and science certificate.

I have been sailing for 10 years and did the Sea Education Association summer program (yeah S-188) from Honolulu to San Francisco recently. And now I am on the Bounty--go figure. So here we are at the beginning of another adventure. I flew to Tampa yesterday and traveled with Maria to "the Pier". The cab cost $45 and the driver didn't know where this infamous pier was. So much for saving money and having everyone know where the pier is! The boat is way different than the Seamans and run super differently as well. As much as I am secretly in love with marconian rigs, square sails are interesting and there is so much history involved at least with this boat, if not with all of them. We are more passengers on this boat (than on the Seamans) than crew in the sense that we aren't expected to know everything and we have special privileges besides the fact that we are on watch and are being taught basic sail handling.

I went for a long run yesterday--a little longer than expected because I got lost and realized at about the same time that I was hungry and I was running through the ghetto of St. Petersburg. Oh, and the sun was setting. Needless to say that I started to run a bit faster. No harm was done though and I arrived back at the pier, and hence the boat, an hour later and after stretching and doing abs, had a wonderful dinner and then went to play ultimate Frisbee with some of the other crew on the beach. Then we went for ice cream.

S-188 kids, I am on B-watch but always remember the most important fact that A WATCH IS ALWAYS THE BEST!!!! This morning (1/5) we woke up at 7:15 and gathered at the capstan at 8 we did a lot of sail handling and emergency drills. But before all of that we cast off from the dock.

Winds are light and variable and the sea is calm but we are motoring and plan to be at the Dry Tortugas by the 9th or something and then to Key West by like the 12th. Mommy and Daddy, you are going to hate me, we are back in St. Petersburg on the 16th, oops! So it should be really fun and I know my hands will be ready for a break by then. High point of my day was that I finally got to go aloft!!!! And I still have two working arms! With that I am off to sleep because, although it's a different name and an hour off, we have mid watch tonight (12-4).
Goodnight.
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posted by Cindy

First day at sea

Morning flat calm. Captain Walbridge briefed the crew and had these words for the Mount Holyoke students. "We will take you," he told them, "to the Dry Tortugas. You and we will take the ship to Key West. Then you will take us back to St. Pete."

We backed off the dock at about 9:30 a.m. and motored down the channel. Then the students were sent aloft to practice their "up and overs." Mike scampered up to the main crosstrees, about 85 feet up. Nino, Anna, Maria, Rose, Natalia, and Cindy went to the main top, where they had a brief class before climbing up to the main tops'l yard and loosed its sail. Carly, Anna, Allison and Nicole laid out along the foreyard and loosed its sail, while crew on deck set three stays'ls. The wind barely whispered, however, and we motored on out past Anna Maria Island and down the coast. Nicole climbed up to the foretopmast trees with the first mate.

After lunch we laid about in hot sun and ran through some safety drills, including a man-overboard drill, after which the intrepid went swimming, swinging off a line attached to the main yard. While the sailors swam off the port side, three dolphins snorted and dove to starboard.

The captain spent his first day on the phone.
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posted by Chris

Anna: First day

We left the port at St. Petersburg this morning and have been sailing south along the Florida coasted towards the Dry Tortugas. There has been very little wind all day so we have had to rely on the motors instead of truly sailing. We went aloft today for the first time, which was a bit terrifying, but after sitting on the yard arm long enough I did eventually become relatively comfortable. The thought that all I have to do is let go with my hands and I will fall to some kind of unpleasant fate is really very scary to think about while I am climbing.

I suppose however that this is the very thing that keeps me from falling--a combination of common sense and fear is what keeps my hands holding on tight. I have just finished my 1600-2000 watch and am headed for bed soon. I am on the 4-8 shift so I am in bed at 8 pm and up at 3:30 am for my next shift.
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posted by Anna

Natalia's quarters

After reading other people's descriptions of their coffin-like bunks, I feel almost guilty speaking of my accommodation. Yet, I will do it, as my living situation is not only super comfortable, but may even be considered of historical and cinematographic importance...

To my surprise, I was assigned to sleep in one of the "Officers' Cabins". I am pretty sure by now that it is in fact what once used to be Captain Bligh's cabin; for those who have seen the movie Mutiny on the Bounty , it will probably make sense to say that I am sleeping in Marlon Brando's queen-size bed! It seems like Fletcher Christian, the mutineer from the historical Bounty, is my neighbor, and John Adams lives right across. I have a wooden cupboard, a huge mirror, AND a door to close. Even though I do miss my skylight bunk from my previous sailing trip with SEA (I had a bunk under one of the hatches), I must admit that sleeping in a cabin is an upgrade.

It is 18:54 now and I can hardly wait for our watch to be over, so that I can head straight to bed and gather some energy for more adventures up the rigging tomorrow. By the way, I am on C watch again. The sunset was gorgeous and I couldn't help but think of my fellow shellbacks. I miss you all very much.
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posted by Natalia

Rose: First day on the high sea

First day on the high sea. It was fun seeing some Florida folks wave us good bye. I already feel dirty enough to have been on board for 12 weeks, but realize that I only have a small introduction of the sea slime that will come. We've seen wonderful dolphins playing by the bow, and heaved sails up and down despite a windless sea. It was a wild beginning.
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posted by Rose

Allison: on the A watch

Tonight will be my first of sleeping on the open water. Luckily, for me, there is just a faint breath of wind, which rocks the Bounty very gently, like a crib. My bunk may most accurately be described as an open topped coffin. It is just wide and long enough to lay myself out in and if I were to be decapitated, I would just be able to sit up straight. The wee mattress is surprisingly comfortable; I have slept on much worse. We, of the A watch, are bunked in layers of two, which are situated to form an O with an opening through the bottom. This makes for very close quarters, which are not divided by sex, but every person is sensitive of the privacy of those around.

Today was a wonderful first day, encompassing many adventures. I climbed up to the yard of the fore mast twice, the second time to furl the sail. During this trying moment the sight of five playful dolphins playing together in the bow-wave relieved my anxiety. Presently I am off to catch a quick shower and then a few z's before this evening's watch from eight 'til midnight. Thinking of my lovely friends and family.
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posted by Allison

Nicole: Wednesday night

2200 Wednesday
It's night. The sun left us quietly this evening, sinking slowly into a silver sea. I had hoped we would lose the shore today, our first day underway, but we are hugging the Florida coast with the hope of catching some slight breeze. We motored most of the day, an unfortunate state of affairs for a ship such as this.

I barely know where to begin by way of relating my experience since arriving. The ship is beautiful, in a weathered way. There are 7 miles of line and I do not begin to know what is attached to which in any useful manner. Orders are given in a language I do not speak and I scramble to be helpful in any way I can. I learn by pulling on things and watching what moves.

There are 21 of the Bounty's crew and 12 of ours and together we are the image of a motley crew. The regular crew comes and goes, as is the wont of sailors, and many have worked on several ships. The captain is much respected and mostly invisible. His job is less sailing the ship than managing it and I do not envy him that task. I assume he will be grateful when we leave the range of cell phone reception so that he may have some peace.

The mates are the ones from whom we take most of our instruction, and they lead the watches, of which there are three, A, B, and C. The individual watches bunk in close quarters, because we wake together and it is convenient to wake everyone in the same place, and not to worry about disturbing a bunk mate on a different watch. Then again, it is curious to hear myself speaking of disturbances because the ship altogether is a loud place. A bell is sounded every half hour to mark the time. The engine room is so loud one must put on ear phones to reduce the noise when checking the gas and the bilge. The sewage system has fans that whir continuously (just near my head where I sleep.) The air conditioning is loud in the aft crew quarters. The 'tween deck is the most spacious of places to sleep, but people are continuously walking by on watch, opening the door to the engine room and calling out that a hatch is open or standing above their heads listening to the Coast Guard updates that come across the radio.

We climbed into the rigging today and unfurled the sails to express our wish for wind. In the afternoon, when it became apparent that our wish would remain unanswered, we climbed again and furled them all once more.

I find it easier to be in the rigging with a job to do, as it takes my attention away from the distance between myself and the deck, and the precarious nature of the balance that prevents us from meeting. We are mandated to wear safety belts, but not to clip them on. I still do, but most of the crew does not. Somehow the feeling of safety provided by the belt is tempered by the notion that it is as likely to break my back as it is to save my life, should the circumstance arrive. Mostly, I concentrate on the task at hand and the glorious view. We choose the risks we take, and this is one of mine.

Today from the cross trees (high above the deck) I watched seven dolphins dance at the bow of the boat. I'm not sure I know how to play like that, but I wish I did. Maybe if I spent enough time this close to the place where the sun hits the sea I would learn.
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posted by Nicole

Nino: First day

This is the first day of sailing and we have had almost no wind. While I would love to see the ship in full sail, and I am very much looking forward to that day, I think it did help to go aloft without the wind for the first day. The weather and the sights are beautiful, sunny all day and a starry sky at night.

The ship itself is better then I had imagined it. The ship is an amazing sight on deck and roomy below. The sleeping situations, at least for me, is amazing; I have a solitary room with plenty of space. The rest of the ship is very well equipped. There are two showers and a roomy kitchen. The cook is excellent; so far we have had good meals.

Over all it has been a good day. I am looking forward to going to bed in about 20 minutes when my shift ends, and I am looking forward to windier weather.
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posted by Nino

Nicole: No sight of land

0900 Thursday
It happened sometime in the night, while I slept blissfully in spite of the constant motion above and below me. This morning I stumbled bleary onto the deck and scanned the horizon for land, but there was none. Sometime in the night we lost sight of terra firma. Somehow this magnifies the feeling of being at sea and the understanding that this small vessel of timber and steel is the only piece of solidity between us, and the murky deep.

Yesterday people swam for an hour or so after we did the man overboard drill. Lobster lines had fouled the prop, though not in a serious way.

Divers went down to free it and to check if the lines led to any sea creatures upon which we might dine, but there were none. The food on board is surprisingly tasty, though I do not envy the job of the cook, as there is always someone unsatisfied by the food, and cooking for 30 in any kind of weather must be quite a trick.

For now I must be off, as I sneak all time to write from my "idle shifts" on watch. Idle is a misnomer as we use the time to clean the heads and the galley and the deck, depending upon the time of day and the assigned watch. Consequently I feel a bit like I am shirking my duty to the rest of my watch by not helping to clean. The crew is pleasant about this, eager and willing to help make time so that we can write in our logs, but they may not be so eager in a few days, and I prefer not to find out. This is a small space and harmony among all present is the preference. So with that, I think I will head to the weather deck and attempt to make myself useful.
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posted by Nicole

Megan's guest post

Megan Folz
HMS Bounty, guest BLOG
01/06/05
2225

I was wondering why Evan and I were so anxious to write one of these BLOG entries. There is something very rewarding, perhaps more important, comforting or reassuring to know that someone will read your words. It puts you up, and somehow makes you a little more important than the common stranger on the street. It does not matter who reads it, some arbitrary person whom you may know or may not just as long as it is read and heard.

I was standing bow watch with Elettra tonight. Her excitement reminds me why I love the ship, and why I am here, because sometimes it is very easy to forget. Having been on the Bounty, leaving and being back again now I have a more clear understanding of what the ship offers people.

Most people (crew included) view it as an escape; an escape from the "real world", from cell phones, news, radio, television, cars, and other chaos that the modern world provides us. Here, life is simple, it is easy to understand. It is something that can be appreciated in a few weeks, but takes years to fully learn and then after that you still don't know it all. Tonight there is no land or other boats in sight; you can see the horizon around you, all 360 degrees, no interruption. That is rare and not seen anywhere expect on the sea. At night, it is the sky and not necessarily the seas that humbles us. It is beautiful and awesome, in the mightiest sense of the word.

Elettra recited the rhythm we learn as children, "Twinkle, twinkle little star." But here, tonight, the sky is not as innocent as that. Tonight that stars are beautiful and terrifying, like the sea, once you realize that it has the power to create and destroy.

Natalia's Second Blog

Feeling restless tonight. Probably because it was an awesome day, or perhaps because I took a long nap in the late morning right after our watch...

This morning I watched the sunrise from the foremast port yard, while we were shaking the course (one of the foremost square sails). Yes, I must admit that my legs were shaking and the deck seemed further down than it actually was, but the view was worth it and so was the feeling of satisfaction once we got back down to the boat. Right after sunrise we took our shoes off and did some deck scrubbing with the fire hose and then it was time for breakfast--delicious butter bisquits and cereal. There's nothing like a good breakfast after dawn watch! Actually, there's nothing like good food on a beautiful boat with a great company.

And Ralph, our cook, has been preparing some good stuff for us--we had barbequed burgers for lunch today (the grill is still up on deck), and we had pork with applesauce and roasted potatoes for dinner. Sorry, SEA kids, no Tank juice onboard; we only drink real orange juice and water.

Today was also a major celestial navigation day for Cindy, Mat (our mate), and me. We seem to be the celestial gurus of the boat, as no one else, except maybe the captain and one of the mates, has done much navigating by the stars and the planets. So, we took a morning sun line and we also got a local apparent noon sight, which helped us find our longitude. (Steve, I used my sheet anchor.) This was quite helpful because the crew decided that we had a "major electronic failure" this morning, right after the deck watch. Luckily, the failure was fake, just meant to help us learn various navigation techniques, such as dead reckoning, measuring the speed of the boat manually, and, of course, celestial navigation. We got to use the captain's sextant, which actually no one from the crew had used before, and even though there were clouds and we could not shoot too many stars, it was still fun.

Right now, it's time for bed because we are getting up at 4 a.m. again.

I hope there will be less clouds then, so I can teach the Celestial G (a group of stars that form a G in the sky) to some of the crew people.

There is also a lot of talking about the upcoming Pirates of the Caribbean shoot, but I'll leave my Johnny Depp stories for tomorrow. Oooh, I also fell off my bed this morning, and I was not sleeping, nor was the boat rolling, but it was still a dramatic fall--go figure!
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posted by Natalia

Evan's guest post

2105, 01.06.05

Bow of the H.M.S. Bounty standing bow watch at twenty-one-oh-five.

The sea was just answering the question I had posed to Allison: what experience had left the greatest impression on her in these first few days. I had been starring at the water and a white trail zipped past, weaving at high speed like a dorsal fin of a shark. But once several appeared in and among each other, breaching regularly it was clearly a pod of dolphins. They churned up the phosphorescent microorganisms as they sped through the water leaving long glowing trails. Allison remarked that at first she thought they were eels, the trails were so brilliant and long. They were back into the fog bank obscured from sight in less than a minute leaving only the sounds of their exhalations carried clearly over the still night water as they swam away. Doubtlessly circling and following and chasing each other in the familiar way easily recognized--or easily anthropomorphized as affection.

Elettra even shrieked with glee when she relieved us and we told her the only sighting on our bow watch was of dolphins.

This was characteristic of our guests. They are enchanted by the sea and its opportunities to instruct. These first few days have found them inquisitive as to the workings of the ship but they are very conscious of the context that any such question or answer on that topic would be in. It is how the ship acts in the sea. They understand that we are bound to it and the wind, water, and weather and that it is in these things that the answers to theirs and every mariner's questions are found. In this way they have already learned the lesson common to us professional sailors as well as their and our common seafaring ancestors since time began.

Our guests grasp this humbling reality that has confronted sailors that have sought to escape the essential, universal realities that constrained them on land. As on land, nature's dictates of the human condition follow us; they find us upon the vast, trackless sea. But surprisingly enough this apprehension of civilization's wayward fugitives does not frustrate, it does not embitter. For our guests as with our ancient mariners have not been swindled in this transaction. In her generosity nature has given sailors the freedom to rewrite the rules that they left behind. They sail away on their own nation toward the realization of their collective vision of utopia. While sometimes more dictatorial than democratic under the ships hierarchy in formal political binds, they are free to create their own body politik, their own culture independent of the families, peoples, and even languages they left behind.

This promise of hope is the consolation given to sailors for setting forth in to uncertainty and unknown hazard on the high seas. The compromise to allay their being denied the escape they sought. The pact we mariners, sailors and students, have found as we redefine our previously held assumptions and beliefs from what we need to be happy to our tolerance of the erosion of personal hygiene.
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posted by Evan

Carly: Friday

I was sitting on Bow Watch last night at 2200 looking around at the endless sea that was surrounding me and starry sky above me and I finally realized how amazing it was that I was out here. There is no land or anything that would show me how I got out here in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico from Connecticut. I opted for this experience because I knew that it would be an unbelievable experience that would be totally different from anything that I've ever done. So far it is certainly living up to that. I never thought that on the first day I would be up on a yard furling a sail about 40+ feet over the water. I'm not saying that I feel comfortable doing it, but the fact that I can do and know that I am capable, whether I like it or not, is truly a big step for me.

On 'A Watch' I'm working the 8-12 shift for now, which is great by me. When I'm not on watch or doing work party I'm either sleeping, tanning or it's mealtime. I've been designated as the "techie" so I'm sending the blogs and hope to send photographs soon. While on watch I'm been doing bow watch, which is probably my favorite simply because it's very serene, and seeing the dolphins jumping in front of the bow is great. I am also learning navigation, how to do a boat check and I'm even working at the helm steering the boat. I'm learning a lot and the people here are all great.

We're currently sailing, not using the engine and we're also not using GPS due to a 'major electronic failure'. We're currently sailing at about 1.6 knots, slowed down from about 3 knots this morning. At 800 when I got on watch this morning we were about 50 miles from Dry Tortugas so we are going to take our time because we are not scheduled to be there until daybreak on Sunday. We spent the afternoon doing different maneuvers called evolutions. I'm sure I will feel it in the morning. However because we are so close to the Dry Tortugas we have "parked" the ship, which means we all only have to be on watch for one hour as opposed to our usual four so many members of the crew are taking advantage of more hours of sleep. I write this before I go on watch with the sounds of "Treasure Island" and crewmembers cheering every time we see our beloved ship.

I hope everything is well on the mainland. This lack of communication is something I have yet to get used to.
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posted by Carly

Nino's second day

Second day, and we have set sail. We have been simulating an electronics failure all day and have been doing all the navigation without the GPS. My day started at 4am, which is my first watch. I got to see the sun rise and be on the watch that opened the main sail and the foretopsail. I have started to get to know more of the crew today as we settled into our watches and I must say I like the crew, they are a fun bunch. Today was not as sunny as yesterday but it was a nice day, warm weather and more wind. I am going to have to dedicate the last potion of my blog to the cook. Ralph, the cook, has managed to make each meal better then the last; and as I am a member of C watch, the eating watch, I appreciate it a lot.
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posted by Nino

Chris: Friday II

The big event of the morning was a school of dolphins herding fish, swimming in tight circles and slapping their tails.

We spent the afternoon doing evolutions--maneuvering the ship down wind, wearing ship, or jibing to small boat sailors. The three watches were assigned respective masts, and then rotated among the masts, so that they learned the similarities and the differences. The wind was too light for us to tack into the wind, but not too light to attempt a "boxhaul." Boxhauling is a special maneuver in which the ship is turned in its own length. We ran her up into the win, backed all her sails against their masts, then spun the helm over to the other side and sailed backwards into a "J" and sailed off in a different direction. I had the privilege of manning the helm and thus shared the overview with the captain. For tall ship aficionados, boxhauling is the cat's pajamas. With thirty of us on deck, the maneuvers went very well. For the captain to attempt a boxhaul suggests confidence in our collective capabilities.

As we were performing our last maneuver, the captain pulled yet another man overboard drill and we got the boat over in record time. Then the first mate, Andy, too Rose and Anna out to film the ship under sail.

We are now about thirty miles north of the Dry Tortugas, with 36 hours before our permit to land goes into effect, so we will heave to for the evening, the fors'l turned to starboard, the main tops'l to port, the spanker set to starboard and the helm lashed to leeward. That's what it takes to park a square-rigger in a seaway. Oh, yes, we will turn on our deck lights so that no one runs us down. That is not likely.

Visibility is excellent. The sea is calm, we are out of the shipping lanes, and haven't encountered any traffic all day.
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posted by Chris

Allison: knots and knots

Day Three is waning as I write. The sun has set, the sails are furled, and the ship is heaving to. Night watches have begun and the sea is cradling us in her loving arms. There is very little in this world that is more peaceful than the rhythmic rocking to and fro of the ship at sea.

For most of today we sailed at three knots, a record for this trip. The threshold speed of the Bounty is twelve knots, which must be exhilarating when reached. We are navigating without any technology, except for a depth meter. In order to determine our speed we perform a Dutchman. This exercise consists of tossing a wood block off the starboard bow and monitoring the time it takes to travel along one hundred feet of the ship. Using a specialized slide rule we can apply this number and get our speed in knots.

Enough of the ship: I am in stupendous shape despite falling down some stairs yesterday morning and the burning of my hands from hauling on the lines this afternoon. I am surrounded by lovely, knowledgeable people who never tire of my many questions, and are excellent instructors. I am teaching myself some knots and have learned the six basic knots used on this ship. I cannot presently recite all of their names, but I can produce them and determine in what situation they are likely to be used.

A very exciting and unexpected incident occurred today. One of the Bounty crew members, by the name of Evan, brought out his violin during lunch and I got to give him some pointers and play a little. April, my dear sister, I deeply regret never taking out my violin and playing the Bach Double with you over the holidays.

I know that Chris has gone over our brilliant maneuvers of this afternoon's work party so I won't bore my readers with redundancy. I will just say that I miss all you divine MoHos and my dearest family and friends.

Yo-ho me hearties, Allison

Elettra: Friday

January 7, 2005
35 miles away from the Tortugas

Today felt like the longest day so far. There was more wind than yesterday and by now my face is quite toasted.

As part of Watch A, we made rounds in the morning and while I was at the helm a school of dolphins swam by us on portside, jumping around. I've never seen so many at the same time. They glistened in the sun and spewed water.

The Galley is the dining room, kitchen, snack area and bookshelf (that includes a stereo, with an iPod connected to it). This seems to be the reuniting center of the ship (after the deck, of course). Here, everyone sits to chat or eat (or write BLOGS on the computer), get their food, brush their teeth--or sew the bottom of their feet. Lucas, one shipmate, explains he sews where it is callous and he has no sensation. He had no cut on his foot but he stitches it in order to feel something.

Lucas is extremely talented and can play almost all instruments, from the guitar to the trombone and can sing along as well. He has a mini guitar on board and he told me the story today of how there were two new boys (with Biblical names) in school when he was younger. Apparently they had taken the wrong bus and were meant to go to a different school.

So they became friends with Lucas. At the end of the day Lucas went home with them and their father had a collection of instruments (mostly guitars). He has curly blondish hair until the ears, a goatee and perfect white teeth, although he smokes. Today, after boxhauling the ship (reversing direction), we stopped for a swim and although we did not do the Tarzan jump into the water, Lucas, like last time, brought his "smokes" in a baggie and smoked from the water. Any smoker will know how hard this must be but he is able to maintain the cigarette intact. Although he can't smoke on board, he is a joker on board (and in the water). Sometimes he also jokes with Captain Robin, who often plays along and responds with smart-ass comments. Lucas has a shackle in his ear. The piercing he made by himself, of course, using a needle). To say he is a character is definitely an underestimation.

I saw the dolphins again on my night watch (around 20:30) and they looked magical, illuminating their path and their splashes. Currently, almost everyone is sitting 'tween decks, watching Treasure Island, the movie. Most of it is situated on the Bounty.

I wake up every day excited to go on deck--even just to see what the weather is like. The watch before ours wakes us up by telling us how the weather is and what time it is. I think this is a trick because it only makes me want to go on deck immediately to feel the weather myself.
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posted by Elettra

Anna: Friday

Friday January 7th, 8:15 am

I have just finished my morning watch and breakfast and I am soon headed for bed again. Our cook has been doing an amazing job with our meals, this morning's breakfast being a good example of the meals I look forward to every few hours: eggs cooked to order, sausage links, cereal, and toast. I am pleasantly surprised my by the more than adequate area for sleeping that I am lucky enough to have gotten. I am in the T'ween decks at the very back of the ship in a secluded window nook with lots of head room where I can look out the window at the ocean and the sky from my bed. The Captain and all of the crew are really wonderful to us, helping us to learn everything, yet at the same time making us feel like useful integral members of the crew.

The wind has picked up and we were able to turn the motors off yesterday and have been relying just on our sails. It is absolutely wonderful to sit on deck and absorb the sunshine and watch the ocean as I feel it rocking the ship; it is going to be hard to go back to February weather in Massachusetts. This morning right after the sun came up I unfurled the main course sail underneath the already unfurled topsail. It was a little precarious climbing from the shrouds to the yard, because the yard was tacked such that it was pretty far away from the shrouds and my arms and legs being a bit on the shorter side, it was a stretch. I am sore in my arms and back but the climbing has been the hardest on my hands which are unaccustomed to the hauling and climbing the ropes. Speaking of which, I am glad to be headed to bed to catch a nap before lunch.
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posted by Anna

Megan's second guest post

Megan Folz
HMS Bounty Guest BLOG
01/07/05
1641

Someone once asked me what is the best thing about living on a tall ship. Actually a lot of people have asked me that. I believe that the best thing, the most important thing is that you learn how to live with other people. There is a camaraderie amongst a crew that can be experienced in few other circumstances. As a crew you work together, live together and socialize together. These people become your co-workers, family and friends. When you leave, you loose all of these at once, and it has been one of the hardest things that I have ever had to do. The same person told me that they always pictured sailors as independent and separated from each other in some way. I was surprised at this, and told her so, because it is so far from the truth. People that have come and sailed with us have told me that they are amazed at the amount of cooperation amongst the crew and guests. We practiced evolutions today, and even I am amazed at how everyone works together. It is a proud moment when everyone on deck is hauling a line, sweating, pushing themselves, bringing out a strength that surprises even them, all trying to achieve a common goal. Sailing is teamwork at its extreme. We must trust ourselves, and trust each other even more.

01/08/05
1800
I was thinking yesterday and today about what I said about trusting ourselves. Really, I didn't say very much or even anything at all, but thinking about it and watching people over the course of the trip so far has really made me realize how much of our lives we spend in our "comfort zone". At one time or another each one of us is presented with some situation in which we feel awkward, uncomfortable, uneasy etc. How do most people deal with that? I guess that some of us reach that comfort zone and become so afraid that we run back before we even fully understand the situation. Others reach the edge and decide that that is enough and never actually step outside. But how many actually jump? How often do we say, "Oh, I wish that I could do that, or had done that" or whatever, but when we are presented with an opportunity, we run away covering our fear with excuses. "Oh, I can't really do that because of blah, blah, blah." But once you jump, you find that the ground is actually right under your feet, and it wasn't as bad as you expected. And then we begin to understand where we are and are able to deal with it, and we jump again, maybe a little further, maybe a little less. I have always loved taking people up into the rig for the first time. People are always so unsure of themselves, so afraid that they will fall. It is just a step at a time, one ratline, one foot in front of the other. I have actually talked people through each step, "ok, now put your left foot here." But in the end, when they reach the fighting top, there is always that great sense of accomplishment, even though they might not want to stand up. As you take people up more and more they eventually begin to realize that if they just don't let go, if they just allow themselves to trust their hands and their feet and their own strength (most of which they didn't even know they had) they are fine. Andy is talking to everyone right now and he brings up the great words of Irving Johnson at exactly the right time. "We didn't have harnesses back then. We just didn't let go, it would be stupid to let go."

Nicole: A moment of glory

16'14
Today we received the first whispers of wind. We are on a port tack, which means that the windward side of the boat is the port side, and that the yards are braced to reach forward on the port side. The wind has been sufficient to shut off the motor, which is a blessed thing, as it lessens the noise on board considerably. The generators below us still groan on ceaselessly, providing power for our 21st century electrical needs, among them the nav lights that indicate our presence to other vessels in the darkness. Under sail we are managing a staggering 3 knots, give or take. For those of you who are unfamiliar with sea terminology, that is painfully slow.

I am greatly impressed by the assembled group of young women from MHC. I was proud to see Elettra, who is terrified by heights, out on the port yardarm yesterday, 50 feet off the deck, furling sails and looking brave. Cindy and Natalia have been working on their celestial navigation skills, taking sun sights and making calculation that are beyond my ken. Maria is a gem, always smiling, always willing to help. Allsion is a bit sore, due to the fact that she tumbled down the companionway this morning, a maneuver which deposited her in the fore crew quarters, quite close to my head. On the topic of soreness, I cannot believe how shaky my legs are. I had expected my shoulders, arms, and hands to protest the new workload, but their soreness is nothing compared to my upper thighs and calves. Climbing is easy, but descending is another matter entirely.

21'10
The little wind we had today has quit us entirely and we are drifting at less than a knot, but at least in the right direction. I am mid-watch and have just checked the boat, a task that someone on each watch performs every half hour. No fires, no gurgling or gulping in the nether regions of the ship, no fuel or water leaks, check. Pumping the bilge is daunting for anyone unfamiliar with pumps and valves, as there is an entire wall of them, of varying colors and purposes, and a mistake can burn out the motors for the pumps and who knows what else.

Today my moment of glory came when I sat on a pile of line under which was stowed a fire extinguisher without its pin. The damn thing went off like gangbusters and a caustic white powder coated the lines and the area underneath and around them, which included two lashed barrels of linseed oil. We used the shop vac to clean it up (more 18th century technology), but in the morning I will move everything, mop, and coil the lines. I wonder if they usually store the extinguishers under five hundred feet of rope, but perhaps they simply ended up there after our combination fire/man overboard drill this afternoon.

When we set out on this voyage there was some consternation among the scholars within our academy, and the skeptics within our families. "It will be a wonderful experience," we said. "But what will they learn? How much academic credit will they get? Is this scholarship?" they asked. Their questions made me think of one of my favorite quotes that I first discovered on an outward bound journey of long ago.

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, pitch manure, solve equations, analyze a new problem, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

More on that later.

Last night I dreamed of phosphorescent whales and dolphins swimming around ship and as far as I could see, singing night songs and leaving trails like comets in the heavens.
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posted by Nicole

Nino: Work party

The days are filling up so quickly that I am writing the fourth day entry on the fifth day. The most exciting thing to report is the work party. Every day each watch has two watches and a work party. This far we had only had sailing theory and some exercises, but on the fourth day we were assigned the job of helping the crew raise the topgallant yard. We actually got to use the capstan, which can almost be described as a round revolving table. After a small accident of a piece of rigging falling down and hitting a member of the crew and giving him a concussion, we calmly went back to work. We are about twenties miles off of the Dry Tortugas and I must admit I am excited to see land again.
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posted by Nino

Nicole: Saturday

10'45

I think it's Friday. No, Saturday. It's easy to forget. The watches change, the sun rises and sets, we sleep and wake, and there is little need for names of days, though the hour is still quite important. When I am below deck I find it surprisingly easy to forget that we are underway. The gentle rocking has become so much a part of my world that I have forgotten its existence in the way that one forgets the solidity on the ground beneath ones feet when on land. Experienced sailors will laugh and know that this means we have had fair weather and calm seas. When foul weather blows in the ship is sea-stowed and everything not in use is lashed down to prevent it becoming airborne.

So, back to what we are learning. It is true, our learning here, for the most part, is not academic in a textual sense. But life is not lived in texts, it is lived in the world. Strictly speaking, the goal of a liberal arts education is to produce well rounded human beings, capable of both thought and action. The ability to analyze texts and scribble coherently is only one part of that balance. Theory without practice is a daydream, a kind of sophisticated amusement for intelligent minds. Please do not misunderstand me, I respect academia, and on my better days fancy myself a scholar, but a whole soul this does not make. As students, most of us read over five thousand pages a semester, and write between fifty and eighty. We huddle together in hundred year old buildings as the seasons change, around tables with papers scattered about us, we touch heads in labs, reading measurements yielded by state of the art tools, we live work and play within the confines of an extraordinary microcosm, and when we graduate, we believe ourselves to be educated. In many ways this is true, and that sort of education is a gift, both as it pertains to the people we become, and the opportunities that are made available to us. But by itself it is incomplete. Here, we are in the world in a vastly different way. It is an animal world, of gravity and grace, wide open to the wind and waves, full of wonder and experience so rich it peels back your skin and shows the steel beneath.
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posted by Nicole

Anna's third post

Saturday, January 8th 11 am

The wind has picked up as of last night and the boat is rocking a bit more, which is very nice for sleeping at night, and so far no sign of seasickness for me (knock on wood).

We are making good time and were able to furl the sails, turn of the motor and "heave to" for the night -- basically we just drift. This meant that we did not need a full watch crew but only 2 people on watch at anytime so we all took turns doing one-hour watches in pairs instead of our regular 4-hour watches. This means extra sleep for everyone (yay!) and also that there was time for many of us to watch Treasure Island (with Charlton Heston) last night which features our very own Bounty. It was so cool to see the same ship on the screen that we were standing on at that moment.

Just before going to bed last night we saw a huge group of dolphins, large ones and baby dolphins, swimming right along side the boat and feeding on flying fish. There must have been at least 15 of them, it was impossible to tell as they were all moving so quickly, but I did see one big group all come up for air at the same time.

We did a lot of practice turning the boat around yesterday to try to understand how the wind and direction of the sails affects us. It was quite a workout hauling all the different lines so many times but I think I am beginning to have a better understanding of where most of the lines are.

It is lunchtime soon, and having slept through breakfast, I am hungry. It looks like macaroni and cheese -- I'm excited.-----
posted by Anna

Chris: Saturday

On Saturday we raised the main to'gallant yard, which is like hoisting a 35 foot long log 85 feet into the sky. This black log carries a furled sail, numerous hanks of rope, and assorted wires. The halyard was wrapped around the capstan and the students walked it round. It was clear to the captain and me that the yard was rigged to go up upside down, but we said nothing, waiting to see if the crew would figure it out. Eventually, after a little prodding from the captain, they did, and lowered it back to the deck for re-rigging. Then they hoisted it again, up past Anna who was standing on top of the main yard to guide its rise, and up to Mike and others standing on the cross-trees. It rose to the top of the topmast, and then suddenly dropped about eight feet, swinging in towards Anna. She never flinched, and stood by her post. It fell because a strop, used to hold a hauling block (pulley) to the bulkhead, broke, giving one of the crew a severe whack in the head and sending him below for an ice pack. Our hero of the day was Mike, who seemed totally comfortable working at the top of our highest mast, wisely clipping on with his harness, but otherwise fully absorbed in his tasks. He is greatly admired by all. But he was up there with Megan, a first-year student at Smith and a member of the ship's crew. She not only wrestled with the errant yard; she filmed the exercise for us.

According to the captain, sailors in the Queen's Navy could lower and raise a yard in nine minutes. It took us over two hours to hang this one aloft, without reeving all her lines to the deck. So this Bounty is not ready to return to naval service. Has too good a sense of humor, anyway.

After dinner--another triumph by our good cook Ralph--the first mate Andy reminded us of the contract. The crew would bring us to the Dry Tortugas, we and they would sail us to Key West, but we will bring them home. That means that our group has to select its own captain and mates and learn all the commands for working each mast, as well as navigate. Curiously, our group is more confident of its capacities to do both dead reckoning and celestial than to work the ship, although that was before tonight's maneuvers in the dark. They have each received one-on-one tutorials in the chart room for the past three days.

We raised the Dry Tortugas at about eight p.m., a faint glow in the southern sky. Our permit to land is not until 8:00 a.m. Sunday morning, so we sailed back and forth all night. Night time is the best time to learn the ropes, because we have to find them in the dark. On the 12 to 4 a.m. watch we wore ship four times, clewing up the fors'l, setting and dousing the main and mizzen stays'ls, and clewing and unclewing the spanker.

The lighthouse on Loggerhead Key flashes every 20 seconds. On the port tack at night it was about 20 degrees off the starboard bow. On the starboard tack it was about three degrees off the starboard fantail. These islands lie so low on the horizon that it wouldn't take much of a tide to wash them away. Ponce de Leon dubbed them "Las Tortugas," after sea turtles he slaughtered here in 1513. The old conquistador was searching for a fountain of youth, but there are no fountains of any kind on these shoals. If you want fresh water, or any other libation, you must bring it yourself. The Park Service makes this emphatically clear. Smokey is not a St. Bernard.

The harbor here is dominated by Fort Jefferson, one of the largest forts ever built on the American coast. Begun in the 1850s, it was promptly rendered obsolete by advances in naval gunnery and a dearth of foreign predators. Like many military construction projects, however, the absence of enemies did not deter Congress, and construction continued well after the Civil War. Were the fort not here, no one would visit but birds and turtles, and the Park Service rangers would be even lonelier, and drier, than they are now.

The bulbous guns of old Fort Jefferson were never fired in anger. During the Civil War its walls were used to house Union deserters, and afterwards Dr. Mudd, who was exiled here for setting a bad actor's broken leg. Mudd performed so well during a yellow fever epidemic that he was paroled in 1869.
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posted by Chris

Technical note

FYI for readers: The team has been sending their posts in batches, so the day and time shown for each post is not necessarily when it was written. You might run across a post that was written earlier but posted later than another post, making them appear to be out of sequence.
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posted by Bill

Carly: Saturday 1200

The seas are getting rougher. Not bad, but you can certainly feel the boat rocking back and forth, and the creaking of the boards and the sloshing of the water against the boat are the sounds that lull you to sleep at night. Last night we were hove-to so we were on watch for only one hour. On my watch from 2145-2245 I was once again reminded of how amazing and different being on this boat is from the life that so many live and that I have lived until now. Outside the wind was blowing at about 10-15 knots and we were simply drifting, with nothing as far as we could see. There was a pod of dolphins surrounding our boat with their babies jumping and playing and catching the flying fish that forget that dolphins are amazing jumpers. It was just unbelievable to see so many dolphins, had to have been at least 10 jumping and swimming together. I really have gained an appreciation for being out here. The constant wind on my face and the sun beating down, it's really beautiful on the water. In the world that I normally live in there are new things to see everywhere, when driving, when walking. It's all very fast-paced and high stress; everyone needs to be somewhere quickly and never stops to appreciate what is around them. However out here we really have time to look around and appreciate everything that is around us. I also am appreciating what I am missing back at home, everything that seemed so everyday and normal. Life out here on the water is so different; seeing a boat or anything out on the horizon is a joyful sight, a reminder that we aren't completely alone out here. I have a better understanding of the camaraderie out here and how they truly are like a family and there is a bond that I don't know if it can be duplicated in a normal fast-paced world on land. Many wouldn't trade the sea life for anything. However, I am beginning to realize that the general consensus of coming out here is running away from something, whether it be the daily grind or a fear of committing to a life that might not be fulfilling in one's mind.

We reach the Dry Tortugas tomorrow and are spending the day and night anchored there, leaving at daybreak on Monday. Seeing land will be a welcome sight. The feeling of blue all around you makes you feel so small and insignificant. I'm learning navigation yet I'm still having difficulty grasping how one can steer through miles and miles of blueness and get from one point to another. Today we have another hard work party ahead of us, hoisting up yards about 50 feet up. Another night and morning of sore muscles will await me, however I can't forget the reward. Sailing and getting to a destination I'm sure will be truly rewarding. Seeing the fruits of our labors is always a welcome sight.
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posted by Carly

Anna at Dry Tortugas

Sunday, January 9th 9 pm

I have just spent a beautiful day on a remote island at the southern tip of Florida known as the Dry Tortugas. During my morning watch, from 4-8 we successfully maneuvered our ship into the dock before the rest of the tourists arrived by ferry or plane. The island is the strange, beautiful place completely isolated from "civilization". There is no fresh water (hence dry) and there is no land in sight, the closest land is Key West 70 miles away, the next is Cuba which is 90 miles away. There now stands Fort Jefferson which encompasses most of the island. Along one side of it there is a small beach with amazing crystal clear water where we spent the day exploring the fort, soaking up the sun, and snorkeling. The snorkeling was absolutely incredible, I have never been before and the fish I saw, including 4 barracudas, a blowfish, a Caribbean lobster, and countless others, simply blew me away. As I sat on the beach I could help remembering that it is actually January and how miraculous it is that I am able to be enjoying this beautiful weather. This evening we went on a lamp-lit tour of the fort and learned much of the historical background of the fort and its role as a military fort in the 19th century. This has been a long day and I am quite ready for bed, first a quick lesson on pumping the bilge -- pumping water out of the bottom of the ship -- and then I'm turning in for the night. Tomorrow we set sail for Key West!
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posted by Anna

Cindy: Hooked on snorkeling

So for the past five days we have been peacefully sailing along the coast of Florida and learning the ins and outs of square-rig sailing. Pretty exciting stuff. The differences between this boat and the Robert C. Seamans are infinite. Probably not going to go into it here, next one, though. This morning we arrived at the Dry Tortugas where we docked briefly and then set anchor offshore where we will stay until sometime tomorrow (I think).

Today was awesome! We spent all day on the beach swimming and wandering around the old fort. How many of you know that John Wilkes Booth was sewn up by some equally famous imprisoned doctor at this old brick fort?! The islands are called the Dry Tortugas because there is no fresh water on them. I spent the first part of the day wandering around the island and talking with Natalia (the other SEA alum--S-191) about all of the differences between the two experiences and how wonderful they both are separately but also how they will never be comparable because the only thing that is the same between them is that both the Bounty and the Seamans are ships. We talked for a long time and reminisced about SEA. When we had covered pretty much all there is to talk about, we migrated to the beach and continued to walk some more, eventually into the water. The Dry Tortugas are located inside of a coral reef. Towards the afternoon, Charlie (one of the crew) came and took me snorkeling. We saw a barracuda and a giant Carribean lobster and a whole bunch of other gorgeous fish that only appear in National Geographic photographs. I am officially hooked on snorkeling.

Natalia: Sunday

A day fabulousooo today. A day of doing--woke up at 3:30am to stand watch, strike sails, scrub the deck, and navigate safely into the Dry Tortugas bay. Cindy and I spent about two hours, just laying in the sun, at the helicopter landing pad, looking at the sea, talking about safety on board a boat, marveling at our pirate-looking boatie, but secretly dreaming of the Robert C. Seamans. Snorkeled for the first time in my life, walked back and forth on the fort wall, and then saw the most gigantic fish I've ever seen, about 2 meters long, 40 centimeters diameter (Sorry, I still think in meters.)

A cool fact of the day - the birds, which come to nest every year at the Dry Tortugas, fly for 3 years across the ocean, without seeing land, from the Tortuga